


Making Out Is Hard To Do

by silver_etoile



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boarding School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin knows how it works. The beautiful boys end up with the beautiful girls and he ends up in the library stressing over his history essays. - In which Gwaine sells blowjobs for beer money and his newest customer is someone Merlin has a keen interest in. If only Merlin wasn't so blind to Arthur's actual intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Out Is Hard To Do

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own. Don't sue.

Merlin is fairly sure that he learned everything there is to know about Gwaine the very first week he moved into the dormitories at Albion four years ago and had found Gwaine lounged across one of the two beds in the squished room. Merlin had already been nervous about boarding school, worried that his mum couldn’t afford it, worried about leaving her alone, worried about dealing with all the rich prats that were sure to populate the rolling grounds and stately brick buildings of campus. 

Even at age fourteen, Gwaine had a confident swagger to his hips, a good-natured grin plastered across his face as Merlin had all but fell into the room, tripping over a bookshelf. 

He hadn’t bothered to help Merlin up, but he had laughed and brushed a hand through his ridiculously shiny brown hair.

“Take it you’re Merlin?” he asked as Merlin straightened up, cheeks flushing red at his graceful entrance. Even then, he’d been clumsy, all gangly arms and legs. He hadn’t grown much except for upwards since then.

“Yeah,” he’d replied, and that, as Gwaine said, had been the start of their beautiful friendship.

Four years later, Merlin was about to learn that Gwaine could still surprise him.

Choking on his drink, Merlin splutters at what has just come out of Gwaine’s mouth. Gwaine, to his credit, shakes off the bits of beer Merlin has just spit on him and sits back on his messy bed, back against the wall, as if it’s completely normal.

It is not completely normal.

“You do _what_?” Merlin asks, his brain kicking into gear again.

“Blow jobs,” Gwaine repeats calmly. “Head. Sucking people off. It’s quite lucrative.”

Merlin holds up a hand to stop him. For some reason, he can’t seem to wrap his head around the idea of Gwaine doing this for money.

For a second, Merlin forces himself to put down his drink, although in all honesty, he should probably drink more. If they’re caught with beer on school grounds, they’ll get demerits. It won’t even matter that they’re both over eighteen.

Instead, he stares at Gwaine, Gwaine with his perfectly shiny hair and scraggly beard that should look like a mountain man, but instead it just makes him look even more roguish. 

“Isn’t that… prostitution?” he asks, eyebrows rising into his hairline.

Gwaine rolls his eyes as though Merlin’s question is stupid.

“No,” he says obviously and spread his arms. “Where are we, Merlin?”

“School?”

“And what don’t we have here?”

Merlin pauses. “Fun?”

“Girls,” Gwaine answers. “We’re in a boarding school with over five hundred blokes, five hundred sexually frustrated blokes, most of whom don’t think twice when it comes to who’s sucking their cocks.”

Merlin slaps a palm over his face and he feels his cheeks colouring. 

“How long have you been doing this?” he manages to ask, the words muffled behind his hand.

He thought he knew almost everything there was to know about Gwaine. He knows that his father died serving in the army, that Gwaine is only at Albion because his mother couldn’t afford to keep him home. He’s a scholarship kid, just like Merlin. The only difference is that Gwaine couldn’t care less about his education. Clearly. As evidenced by his extra-curricular activities that could very well get him expelled.

Gwaine shrugs, and Merlin lowers his hand, his cheeks still burning, although he isn’t sure why. It isn’t as though Gwaine has offered to do it to him.

“Couple months. Needed a few quid for beer. Just thought I’d offer my services to a willing soul. Turns out there’s a lot more willing souls than I thought on campus.”

Merlin frowns. He really doesn’t want to know how many blokes Gwaine has offered his services to. He picks at the covers on his bed and stares at the bookcase instead. It’s built into the wall, along with the desks, and the carpet is old and faded. Albion has been around for over a hundred years and a part of Merlin thinks they haven’t updated since then.

“Look, I didn’t just tell you because you’re my best mate,” Gwaine says when the silence goes on a little too long.

“Oh?”

A smirk grows on Gwaine’s face as he takes a sip of his beer, and Merlin knows that look. It means Gwaine knows something he doesn’t. 

“Normally, I have a very strict client-confidentiality clause,” Gwaine says, and Merlin hesitates. “But I have a feeling you’ll be interested in this one.”

“No,” Merlin says abruptly. He doesn’t want to know anything that could get him in trouble. It’s bad enough knowing that Gwaine does it, but now he feels like an accomplice.

“Come on, Merlin,” Gwaine drawls. “Don’t you wanna know?”

Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t.”

He doesn’t. Really. He doesn’t want to know who Gwaine has done this with, how many guys he has pulled behind the garden shed and dropped to his knees for. 

Some would say he’s a prude, but it’s not that. It’s just, being stuck in a school with five hundred blokes, many of them good-looking with good families and plenty of money, makes it hard for someone like Merlin who has no shot in hell with any of them. And even if Gwaine is giving them blowjobs, it doesn’t mean they are gay. It doesn’t mean that Merlin has any chance. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up that someone other than Gwaine is interested in guys.

Gwains huffs as though Merlin is being difficult on purpose. He finishes his beer and tosses it into the wastebasket.

Rolling off the bed, he climbs onto Merlin’s, shoving him over so that their thighs are touching and Merlin frowns at the unnecessary closeness.

Gwaine pushes at Merlin’s shoulder with his. “We’ve got three months until we’re sprung free,” he says seriously. “Don’t you want to do something with that time?”

“I already got accepted at Cambridge,” Merlin says. “What more is there to do?”

“Find a shag, for one,” Gwaine points out. “You desperately need it.”

“Hey,” Merlin protests, affronted. Just because he doesn’t go around charging people for blow jobs doesn’t mean he’s that sexually frustrated. Then again, Gwaine does live with him.

“So will you just listen to me?” Gwaine asks, and Merlin gives in. Nothing he says will dissuade Gwaine from telling him whatever he wants to anyway.

“What is it?”

Gwaine grins. “Like I said, I have many clients, and I get new ones every day.” 

Merlin slumps back against the wall. He doesn’t see what any of this has to do with him.

“And last week, I got one that is just too good to keep a secret.”

“Gwaine,” Merlin says warningly. He is pretty sure that people wouldn’t do this if they didn’t think it would be kept secret. He doubts whoever it is would want Gwaine telling him.

“I know, I know,” Gwaine says at the look on Merlin’s face, “but hear me out.” His grin widens to something gleeful. “Arthur. Arthur Pendragon.”

For a second, Merlin merely stares at Gwaine. “Arthur?” he repeats doubtfully.

Gwaine has to be making this up. From what Merlin knows of Arthur, which isn’t much to say the least, he’s the poster boy for straight guys.

Arthur plays rugby, football, runs track, and does swim team. If the school offered more sports, he would probably do them too. He sits in the back of every class, laughing with Leon, and rarely, if ever, participates.

“Arthur!” Gwaine says, grabbing Merlin’s beer from the table and taking a swig. “I almost couldn’t believe it myself.”

Merlin doesn’t believe it.

“Are you sure you weren’t drunk and it was someone that _looked_ like Arthur?”

“Completely sober,” Gwaine promises. “And man, I gotta tell you, he is chiseled _everywhere_.”

“Oh God,” Merlin groans, covering his face again, but this time the blush that covers his cheeks and piques the tips of his ears isn’t out of embarrassment of Gwaine.

Gwaine seems to know it too as he elbows Merlin in the side. “Told you you’d want to know.”

“No, I didn’t,” Merlin replies, forcing himself to lower his hands and glare at Gwaine. “I didn’t need to know any of that.”

“I know your crush is a little out-of-hand,” Gwaine says, and Merlin is so glad they’re alone so no one can see how his face goes bright red.

It isn’t a crush, he has told himself too many times to count. He just… appreciates Arthur from a purely aesthetic point of view, almost in the same way he appreciates Gwaine, although Gwaine is not someone he fantasizes about when he’s trying to get off in the shower. Arthur, on the other hand…

“I-” he tries to say, but he can’t seem to find any words to follow.

“But if he’s willing to pay for it,” Gwaine goes on, ignoring Merlin’s spluttering. “Then I can’t see why he wouldn’t let you do it.”

“Gwaine!” Merlin squeaks, heart rising in his throat. “I am not going to offer-a-you know-Gwaine!”

Gwaine only cackles in a way that makes Merlin hate him. 

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he says, grabbing Merlin into a headlock and ruffling his hair until Merlin manages to shove him away and flattens down his hair.

“I don’t know why you told me any of this,” he muttered, crossing his arms. 

“Because you’ve been pining over Arthur all this year and now a chance finally presents itself and all you can do is blush. Get it together, Merlin! In a few months, you’ll be at uni where there will be plenty of blokes to do this with. Why not get some practice in now?”

Merlin wants to argue that it has nothing to do with practice even if he has never given a guy a blow job or even gotten one himself. The point is that whatever Arthur paid Gwaine to do, it wasn’t gossip, and he doubts Arthur would be glad to know what Gwaine was saying.

Not that Merlin will ever tell him because Merlin has only spoken to Arthur once in four years and he doesn’t even remember what they said.

“Yeah, and in a few months, I’ll be at uni and I won’t have to talk to you anymore.”

“Fuck off,” Gwaine says good-naturedly, shoving his shoulder. “You and I are stuck for life, mate.”

Merlin doesn’t argue because he knows it’s true. Whether or not Gwaine bothers with university, Merlin knows he’ll always be around. The thought is both comforting and stressful at the same time, especially when Gwaine glances at the clock and hops off the bed.

“I gotta go. I have an appointment.” He winks at Merlin, and sometimes Merlin just wishes he could have had a normal roommate. “You think about what I said. You could certainly do worse than Arthur.”

Merlin tosses a pillow at Gwaine as he leaves the room. It hits the door and flops to the floor. 

Rubbing his face, he’s glad to find the blush gone. Gwaine is out of his mind, he decides. There’s no way that Arthur is anything other than straight, and one blow job doesn’t prove anything.

*

Merlin’s least favorite class is definitely maths and he always wonders why he couldn’t have given it up years ago, but no. The only bright side is that Lance takes it with him, so he at least has someone to explain things to him when he’s completely lost.

“You forgot to carry the two,” Lance says, leaning over to look at Merlin’s paper.

“What two?”

Merlin is terrible at maths. He can barely do division without a calculator, and that’s a skill he was supposed to have mastered in primary school. He’s eighteen for fuck’s sake.

Lance merely smiles at Merlin’s terrible maths abilities and tugs the paper over. Sitting back in his chair, Merlin sighs.

“Are you going this weekend?” Lance says as he fixes Merlin’s work and Merlin takes the time to gaze around the classroom.

He spots Arthur at the back, bent over his own paper and chewing on the end of his pen. Arthur’s lips are perfectly pink, plush and soft-looking. His blond hair sweeps down, and as Merlin watches, Arthur pushes it back and scribbles something down.

“Merlin?” 

Jerking back, Merlin blinks at Lance. “This weekend?” he asks, lost.

“I thought Gwaine might have told you,” Lance says, and Merlin hesitates.

“Gwaine’s been… busy,” he says, trying not to grimace. It’s not a lie exactly, but he doesn’t want to get into what Gwaine’s been busy doing. Now that Merlin knows, he finds it hard not to think about it every time Gwaine leaves after classes to meet someone. He shakes away the thought now. “What’s this weekend?”

“Rugby match,” Lance replies. “Thought maybe you’d want to come watch.”

Lance, sweet, nice Lance, plays on the rugby team, although Merlin can’t see why. Everyone always comes out covered in sweat, bruises, and blood. That is one of the only reasons Merlin comes to watch, though. It’s the one chance he gets to watch guys wrestle around with each other and not feel like a voyeur.

“Yeah, sure,” he says then when Lance asks, and Lance smiles at him.

Arthur will be there, Merlin thinks the moment Lance looks away, back to his mess of a maths paper. Arthur will be there, sweaty, covered in dirt, his chiseled jaw so beautiful that Merlin just wants to reach out and touch it. 

He shakes himself. He’s in the middle of class, after all. 

Sneaking a glance back at Arthur again, he can’t help the way his gaze rests on Arthur’s muscular forearms, his white uniform shirt rolled up to his elbows. He’s chewing on his pen again and pulls away to lick his lips. It’s safe to say that Merlin may have a bit of an oral fixation when it comes to Arthur.

“Wow, Merlin,” Lance says, and Merlin jumps, thinking he’s been caught. “Do you understand anything about calculus?”

Merlin turns back to Lance, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “No?”

Lance shakes his head. “I don’t know how you’ve made it this far.”

Merlin really doesn’t either, and he determinedly doesn’t look at Arthur again for the rest of class.

*

Saturday’s match takes place at four in the afternoon out on the field in the back of school. Merlin doesn’t even know who they’re playing, but Gwaine plops down next to him on the bleachers.

“We’re the red,” he says and Merlin rolls his eyes. He knows that much.

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t know who the green is, though, but he doesn’t say that to Gwaine. Merlin’s knowledge of sports is limited to what he sees in movies and that’s about it. 

Gwaine doesn’t play rugby, although Merlin isn’t really sure why not. He seems the type, after all - muscular, hard-headed, and always up for a fight whether or not it concerns him. He told Merlin once that he used to play until some bloke broke his leg and he ended up on crutches for three months. Since then, he only shows up at the matches to yell at the players.

Gazing down at the field, Merlin immediately searches out Arthur’s number. He doesn’t admit that he’s had it memorized since the beginning of the year.

Lance waves up at him when Merlin catches sight. He waves back, and he spots Arthur not too far from Lance. Arthur says something to Lance, and Lance tosses him a smile in return.

Sometimes Merlin forgets that Lance knows Arthur. They are, after all, on the team together. Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever mentioned Arthur to Lance, though, so there’s no way he knows about this ridiculous crush - yes, it’s a crush, he admits - on Arthur.

“Arthur’s looking fit,” Gwaine mutters in his ear, and Merlin shoots him a glare. A smirk curls Gwaine mouth and he laughs. “I could introduce you.”

“No, you can’t,” Merlin points out. “Because you and he are not friends, remember? How would people think you knew each other?”

“It is a small school. Everyone knows everybody.”

“Not the way you do.”

Gwaine grabs Merlin around the shoulders and gives him a shake. “Is it still weirding you out? If you want to, I’d be willing to give you a discount, being my best mate and all.”

“Ew, Gwaine, no,” Merlin says, shoving Gwaine’s hand off and shuddering. He doesn’t think of Gwaine that way.

“Come on, only thirty quid for you,” Gwaine teases, and Merlin fights down the blush that blooms on his cheeks. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Fuck off,” he grumbles, hunching down on the bench. The match has already started but he has no idea what’s going on. Somebody gets knocked to the ground and the ball springs free.

As Merlin watches, Lance grabs the ball and sprints towards the end of the field, tossing it to Arthur a second before he collides with another player. The moment Arthur catches the ball, though, he’s tackled from the side and smashes into the ground. A collective yell rises from the crowd.

The play goes on but Merlin watches Arthur heave himself up, pressing at his jaw before jogging after the team. 

Merlin never really saw the appeal of rugby. He prefers things you can do indoors such as reading, watching telly, and board games. Gwaine says he’s an eighty year old man already. Better to be eighty and in good health than with a bad hip from too many tackles when he’s young.

In the scrum, Merlin gets a good look at Arthur’s ass, although it’s far away, but for once, he doesn’t have to monitor his gaze. Around him, people cheer the teams, and Gwaine yells something about being ‘fucking assholes’ to the opposing team.

In front of Merlin, two girls sit. They must be from town because Merlin has never seen either one of them before. The one with dark skin and curly hair whispers to her friend.

“Gwen, don’t be so shy. It’s not like he can hear you up here.”

The girl, Gwen, blushes anyway and glances around.

“Number eighteen,” she says, not whispering this time. Eighteen is Arthur, Merlin thinks. 

“Yes, he is bloody gorgeous,” the other girl says, not bothering to hide the interest in her voice. “Perhaps we should introduce ourselves afterwards.”

“Mithian, we can’t,” Gwen says, scandalized, but Mithian waves her hand. 

“Of course we can.”

Merlin frowns as he listens to their conversation. It isn’t as if he has any claim on Arthur. Arthur probably doesn’t even know his name, but he still feels uneasy about the way they talk about him.

He barely concentrates on the rest of the game, watching it get rougher and rougher until everyone on the field is drenched in sweat, dirt smearing their faces and shins. The ref blows the whistle and it’s over. He has no idea who won.

“Let’s find Lance,” Gwaine says, rising from the bleachers and walking down without waiting for Merlin to clamber after him.

Merlin passes the girls, still whispering to each other, and follows Gwaine down to the pitch.

The last fight has broken up and the team mill around the field as he and Gwaine reach it. Lance grins at them, face smeared with dirt, a bit of blood on his chin that Merlin isn’t sure belongs to him. Behind him, Arthur shoves a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, and Merlin forces himself to focus on Lance.

“Good match,” he says, and Lance laughs as though he knows Merlin is just saying that since Merlin really has no idea what went on.

“Thanks,” he says, out of breath. He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else, though, as Arthur comes up behind him and claps him on a shoulder.

Merlin’s eyes widen but he forces himself to swallow down the lump rising in his throat. Beside him, Gwaine seems to be working on hiding his knowing grin.

“You coming tonight?” Arthur asks Lance, breathless too, and Merlin can’t help staring at the cut on Arthur’s face, a dark purple bruise already forming on his jaw. His throat goes dry at the sight and he firmly keeps his mouth shut.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Lance says.

Merlin has no idea what they’re talking about, but he freezes when Arthur’s eyes move from Lance to Gwaine, though they move from him quickly and land on Merlin instead.

Arthur seems to inspect him for half a second before flicking his gaze back to Lance. He nods at Gwaine and Merlin.

“You can come too,” he says flippantly, almost as an after-thought, and Merlin isn’t really surprised. Of all he knows about Arthur, he knows that he can be a total prat too. He pats Lance’s shoulder again and drops his hand. “See you.”

He leaves without explaining anything, and Merlin watches him walk away.

“What are we invited to?” Gwaine asks curiously, but Merlin isn’t paying attention, frowning as the two girls from the stands approach Arthur.

“Party,” Lance says. “At the Sparrow House.”

“We will definitely be there,” Gwaine says, grabbing Merlin’s shoulders, and Merlin is forced to look away from Arthur and how the girl, Gwen, blushes as they talk.

“Yeah, definitely,” he says, not even knowing what he’s agreeing to.

*

The Sparrow House is an old abandoned manor home that sits on the hill overlooking the town. It’s used mostly for parties that the police usually end up having to break up. Merlin doesn’t go to many parties there, or at all, but Gwaine practically drags him out of the dormitories later that night and they sneak past the House Master and off campus.

Trudging through the streets, Merlin sticks his hands in his pockets. At least he doesn’t have to wear his uniform here, though it’s a bit cold and he tugs his scarf tighter.

“Now, tonight,” Gwaine says as the house comes into view and Merlin can feel the stitch in his chest tightening as they climb the hill - he definitely is not cut out for physical activity. “You are not allowed to sit in a corner all night.”

“I don’t do that,” Merlin argues.

Gwaine ignores him. “There will be girls here, so I plan on getting laid one way or another. You should try too.”

Merlin knows what Gwaine means by ‘one way or another’ and doesn’t say anything. Gwaine has never been very picky about who he shags, male or female. Merlin, on the other hand, is far pickier, although picky also translates to a lack of candidates in his case. Merlin has the sexual appeal of a sea slug.

“How about you just don’t get in trouble and I will try not to say anything stupid,” Merlin suggests, and Gwaine shrugs.

“Sounds like a plan.” He grins, though, and Merlin doesn’t think the plan will go very well.

At the top of the hill, the House is already surrounded by people, most of whom Merlin doesn’t know. He sees a few people from his year, but they’re blokes he has never had a real conversation with, so he sticks to Gwaine’s side as they go inside.

The bass thuds in Merlin’s chest, rattling his bones, and he wonders how they even have electricity in the house considering it’s been abandoned for fifty years. Rumor has it that the old tenant of the house committed a murder here and buried the body under the floorboards. Since then, the house has changed hands a few times but ultimately remains empty for use by the local teens.

Gwaine finds the alcohol almost immediately. He has a nose for it, like scent dogs used by the police except for alcohol of all kinds. Merlin lets Gwaine make him a drink and he doesn’t bother asking what’s in it. Whatever it is, he is sure he won’t stay sober for long.

Gwaine was right and there are girls there, people from town it must be. Merlin doesn’t really know anyone outside of school, and it mostly doesn’t bother him since he’ll be leaving in a few months for uni and he’ll meet new people there.

In this case, though, it means he has no one to talk to except Gwaine, and Gwaine is too busy scoping for his next shag to have a decent conversation.

Instead, Merlin slinks back against the wall, just as Gwaine had told him not to. There isn’t anything else to do, though, and Merlin is reminded why he doesn’t go to parties all that often.

He sips his potent drink and observes the rest of the party-goers. For a moment, he wishes he could be like them. They don’t seem to have a care in the world, stumbling up the decrepit staircase, dancing to thudding music in the living room, the majority of the light coming from the moon outside. There are a few lanterns here and there but for the most part, the house flickers in darkness. All the electricity seems dedicated to the music.

Standing near the base of the staircase, Merlin finishes his drink and considers getting another. Gwaine has disappeared already and Merlin has no idea where Lance is. He wonders how much trouble he would get into from Gwaine if he just skived off now.

Then again, Gwaine would probably never know.

He’s actually considering it, pushing off the wall when someone comes down the staircase and knocks into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” the person says, too dark to see his face, but the guy turns and Merlin catches sight of a sharp jawbone, one he could trace in his sleep.

“I, uh, it’s okay,” Merlin stutters, grimacing at himself and glad it’s dark near the staircase.

Arthur pauses, eyes grazing over Merlin’s face, and Merlin rocks back on his heels nervously.

“You’re…”

“Merlin,” Merlin supplies.

“Merlin, right,” Arthur repeats. “You’re friends with Gwaine.”

“Er, yeah, he’s my roommate.”

“Your roommate?” Arthur echoes, and Merlin wonders if maybe Arthur is a little too drunk to have conversations with people that he’ll remember.

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Gwaine’s my best mate.”

Arthur stares at him for a moment, long enough that Merlin shifts and casts around for something to say.

“It was a good match today,” he says, eyes flitting to the cut on Arthur’s cheek, cleaned now and already congealed, a red line on his face.

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. “Except when Valiant sucker punched me.”

“Oh, right.” Merlin tries to smile but it comes out more like a grimace. He doesn’t know who Valiant is, but he assumes he plays for the other team.

Arthur eyes him and Merlin is fairly sure he’s making an idiot of himself right now. Another thing he’d agreed not to do tonight.

Merlin doesn’t know how to talk to guys, especially blokes he finds heart-wrenchingly attractive like Arthur who can make anyone swoon with just a smile.

Instead of talking again and saying anything stupid, Merlin rubs the back of his neck and glances around. He wishes there was someone else there, a buffer to keep his mouth in line. His mouth doesn’t always listen to his brain.

“So where are your friends?” Arthur asks when Merlin doesn’t speak. 

Looking up, Merlin meets Arthur’s eyes. They’re dark now, in the dark house, but Merlin knows they’re blue, a blue he could just get lost in.

He jerks his thoughts back to the present, though. There’s no need for Arthur to think he’s completely mental by staring at him and not answering his questions.

“Well, Gwaine vanished a while ago, and I haven’t seen Lance.”

That’s about it for Merlin’s friends. Four years at Albion and only two friends to show for it.

“So you’re just standing here?” Arthur asks, an eyebrow rising.

Merlin frowns, trying to think of an explanation. “Well, uh—”

“Arthur!”

A voice comes from behind them, and Arthur turns. Merlin leans around to see who it is, and he’s unpleasantly surprised as he sees the two girls from the match earlier. The one with curly hair twists it around a finger and smiles shyly at Arthur when he turns.

“Hey, you came,” Arthur says, and Gwen flushes. Merlin can see it even in the darkness.

“Of course,” she says as her friend elbows her in the side.

There is no need for Merlin to stick around, he thinks, not now that girls are here, something far more interesting for Arthur to do than waste his time chatting with Merlin.

He slips around behind Arthur’s back without a word, fingering his empty drink and thinking he’ll get another. As he goes, he misses how Arthur turns back, but when he finds Merlin gone, he blinks and turns back to the girls.

*

“Do I even want to know?” Merlin asks as Gwaine pulls out a stack of cash from a pair of trousers on the floor.

“It’s not from last night,” Gwaine assures him. “Although last night was certainly a good one. How’d you do?”

“Me?” Merlin asks, flopping on his bed and pressing a cool hand against his temple where a headache seems to have lodged itself. Maybe it’s just a mild hangover. He can’t really tell. “I managed to stay for almost an hour.”

“Merlin.” Gwaine shakes his head. “You’re never gonna get shagged that way.”

“Who says I’m looking for a hook-up?”

“You’re a teenager,” Gwaine points out. “You have the libido of a rabbit.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s anyone to do it with,” Merlin grumbles, feeling put-out and annoyed by Gwaine today. He blames it on the hangover and the fact that Gwaine doesn’t have one.

Gwaine hops on Merlin’s bed and it creaks dangerously, probably over a hundred years old like everything else there. Merlin glowers at his smile.

“I told you I’d give you a discount. I mean, you’re my friend. I’ll give you half off. Only twenty.”

Merlin glares.

“Fine, on the house,” Gwaine says, ignoring Merlin’s groan. “And we can do it in the comfort of our own room, not behind the rose bushes.”

“Gwaine,” Merlin whines, pushing himself up. “I don’t want a blow job from you.”

“Why not? Everyone else does.”

Shaking his head, Merlin closes his eyes and squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Because you’re my mate and when I do do that, I want it to be with someone who actually wants to.”

“I want to,” Gwaine says, but Merlin shoots him a look. “Okay, I just want you to loosen up, mate.” He grabs Merlin’s shoulders and digs his fingers into them. “Just tell me what would make you happy? I’ll do it. Whatever you want.”

Merlin sighs. “I don’t know what I want.”

He wants Arthur, but that’s never going to happen, especially now that Arthur has the attentions of Gwen, and no matter what Gwaine says about Arthur’s “purchase,” it doesn’t mean anything. Arthur barely knows who he is anyway.

“Do you want a shag? With someone who’s not me,” he adds quickly on Merlin’s look. “What do you like? I can find him for you. Not everyone at this school goes the straight and narrow.”

Merlin doesn’t know what he wants to be honest. He’s so close to leaving Albion for good, so close to beginning real life where he isn’t surrounded by hundreds of untouchable guys. At uni, there will be plenty more opportunities, more open minds, and less close quarters.

“I’d just rather find it on my own,” he says finally. It isn’t that he isn’t interested in a shag, but he wants more than just that. Call him a romantic, but he wants an actual relationship with conversations and kisses and hand-holding and all that ridiculous stuff.

“If you change your mind,” Gwaine says, releasing Merlin’s shoulders. “You know where to find me.”

Merlin huffs a laugh. “In the bed next to mine?”

Gwaine grins. “I can think of a few blokes who wouldn’t mind getting on their knees for you in return.”

“I’ll remember that,” Merlin says as Gwaine pats his shoulder and slides off the bed.

“You never know,” Gwaine says, grabbing his pile of money off the table and shoving it into his back pocket. “Sometimes things are right under your nose.”

When the doors shuts behind Gwaine, Merlin lies back on the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes to block out the light, and concentrates on willing away his headache.

*

Gwaine’s phone rings with a new text for the fourth time in ten minutes and Merlin grimaces, glancing around the library. A few people raise their heads to glare at him as though it’s his fault that Gwaine ran off somewhere and left his things behind. He’d said he would be back, but Merlin suspects he went to chase another “client.”

Reaching over, he fumbles with the mobile, trying to figure out how to switch off the ringer. He presses a few buttons but instead of changing the volume, he gets the message screen. The first two are from people Merlin doesn’t know but the third says ‘Arthur’ on the message and Merlin can’t stamp down his curiosity as he opens the message.

_Tonight. Eight o’clock. Don’t be late_.

He frowns at the message, reading the words over several times just to be sure he hasn’t missed something, but that’s all it says. Going back, he checks for other messages from Arthur but there aren’t any.

A noise behind him makes Merlin fumble the phone, dropping it on the table and hastily pushing it back in its place as Gwaine rounds the table and plops into his seat, smelling of cigarettes.

“Where were we?” Gwaine asks as his phone rings again.

Merlin ducks his head when Gwaine reaches for it, as though he’ll somehow know that he read Arthur’s message.

“Agrevaine’s essay,” he mutters instead, staring down at his practically empty notebook.

Gwaine sets his phone down without replying to anyone and makes a face. “Ah yes, ‘discuss the events leading to Napolean’s downfall in 1812.’ It was fucking winter in fucking Russia.”

Merlin forces himself to laugh. “Agrevaine’s a dick.”

“You’re telling me.” Gwaine grins. His mobile goes off again and several more people glare at them.

“Who keeps texting you?” Merlin asks, unable to stop himself this time. He isn’t sure what kind of answer he wants from Gwaine - the truth or not.

His stomach falls as Gwaine smirks at the phone. “Loyal customers,” he replies, typing in a response. He glances at Merlin. “I’ve got my eye on one.”

“Oh?” Merlin doesn’t like the sound of that. He’s well-aware that Gwaine has much more prowess in the field of attracting people. It usually doesn’t bother him, but the thought that Gwaine has managed to do it with Arthur who is easily one of the best-looking boys in the year makes his stomach curl unpleasantly.

Gwaine winks at Merlin. “I’m working on it.”

It doesn’t make Merlin feel any better and he hunches over his pittance of an essay instead.

*

When Gwaine leaves at ten to eight, Merlin says nothing, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. The door shuts behind him and Merlin sits up. He frowns at it.

Gwaine hadn’t said anything, but Merlin knows where he’s going. To meet Arthur, to do whatever forty quid gets him. 

Sitting in his room, he feels restless. He can’t just sit here and wait for Gwaine to come back, not when he knows perfectly well who he’s going to meet and why. 

Swinging his legs off the bed, he slides off, pulling on his shoes and leaving the room.

There isn’t really much to do at night, especially since curfew is at ten and the Housemaster locks the door and comes around for bed checks, but Merlin goes anyway. Outside, it’s chilly and he tugs his jacket tighter. He crosses the lawn to another brick building, keeping his gaze down and pulling open the heavy door.

On the third floor, he passes a number of identical doors until he reaches three-oh-seven and knocks.

The door opens to a dormitory much the same as Merlin’s, and a black boy stands in the doorway.

“Merlin,” he says, and Merlin bobs his head awkwardly.

“Hey, Elyan. Is Lance in?”

Elyan steps back to let Merlin in. “He just went to grab a book. He’ll be back in a minute. You can wait. I was just going out.”

“Oh, thanks,” Merlin says, stepping in and glancing around the room with its two identical beds, bookshelves, and desks. It’s cleaner than his room, but Merlin suspects it’s because Gwaine doesn’t live there.

Elyan pauses as he’s about to step out the door. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Merlin says, flashing him a smile.

He still pauses, but in the end, Elyan leaves Merlin alone in the room. Merlin doesn’t blame him. They barely know each other after all and he really doesn’t feel like discussing his problems with people who aren’t Lance or Gwaine, and even then, it can be hard to talk about it at all.

He makes himself at home in Lance’s desk chair, fiddling with a pen on the desk. When Lance doesn’t come back right away, he doodles on his wrist, trying to distract himself of thinking of what Gwaine is doing right at this very moment.

When he’s got the makings of an intricate Celtic symbol drawn on his wrist, the door opens and Lance walks in, blinking at Merlin perched in his chair.

“Merlin, hey.”

“Hey,” Merlin says, dropping the pen on Lance’s closed laptop.

“What’s up?” Lance asks, not bothered at all by Merlin’s sudden appearance in his room. He drops the book in his hand on the desk and hops onto his bed.

Now that Lance asks, Merlin doesn’t know what to say. He’s mostly there to distract himself from Gwaine. It hasn’t worked very well so far, and it doesn’t get any better when Lance asks.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asks when Merlin doesn’t reply straight away. 

Merlin sighs. “It’s Gwaine.”

Lance smiles, though he tries to hide it out of respect for Merlin’s problem. “What did he do this time?”

“Well, not Gwaine exactly.” Merlin isn’t sure how to explain this when he isn’t quite sure himself what it’s about. After all, Gwaine had offered to help Merlin with Arthur, in some twisted way of his. Merlin had been the one to refuse.

Lance looks puzzled, and Merlin can’t blame him.

He can’t tell Lance about what Gwaine gets up to in the dark behind the garden shed. He can’t say that Arthur Pendragon is one of Gwaine’s paying customers and right now, Gwaine is probably sinking to his knees on wet grass. 

He steels himself and tries to formulate his thoughts into world.

“There’s this… person that I kind of, sort of, maybe fancy. I don’t know. I don’t really know them. But Gwaine does, sort of. They’ve been…” He pauses, searching for the right word that won’t make it sound like what it is.

“Flirting?” Lance supplies, but Merlin shakes his head.

“Fooling around?” he says, unsure, but that’s as close as he can get. “Yeah, well, I don’t know what to do.”

Lance pauses for a minute, looking thoughtful, and Merlin hopes that wasn’t too vague.

“Have you talked to this person?”

“Once,” Merlin says, thinking back to the party. It hadn’t been a long conversation, but Arthur had talked directly to him, which was a step up from invisible.

“And does Gwaine know you like them?”

“Yeah.”

He can’t tell Lance that it’s Arthur, not because Arthur is a bloke but because Lance knows Arthur in a way that Gwaine doesn’t. Lance is friends with Arthur, and Lance, in his sweet, naive, misguided kind of way might actually talk to Arthur about this, and Merlin doesn’t need that kind of embarrassment.

“Could you ask him to stop?”

“No,” Merlin says, shaking his head.

“Why not?”

It’s too complicated to explain, and all Merlin can come up with is, “I don’t want Gwaine’s help getting someone.”

Lance frowns, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I don’t understand.”

“Because he’s not gay probably, and even if he was, he’d want someone like Gwaine.”

Lance shakes his head. “If he’s fooling around with Gwaine, there’s a pretty good chance he likes blokes,” he points out. “And fooling around doesn’t mean anything. Maybe you should talk to him. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

Merlin doubts it. It’s hard enough to talk to Arthur at a dark party where no one will see them, but out in the open? Arthur barely pays attention to him as it is, but then, perhaps he just never noticed Merlin. They never had been formally introduced. But this was school. Who had to be formally introduced at school?

“I should just forget about it,” he mutters, more to himself than to Lance. “There’s only a few months left anyway.”

He doesn’t heed the look Lance gives him, filled with pity and concern. He shakes himself. He should put Arthur out of his mind.

“How about you?” he asks instead, diverting the conversation. “Any prospects?”

Lance smiles but shakes his head. “Too busy with school and the lack of women creates somewhat of a problem.”

“You could meet one in town.”

Lance shrugs. “Like you said, only a few months left. University will be easier to meet girls, and I’m sure you’ll find someone too, someone Gwaine can’t steal away.”

Merlin forces himself to laugh but he can’t help the way his stomach falls and he glances at the clock. Gwaine is probably finishing up with Arthur right about now.

*

Agrevaine’s essay is due tomorrow, and no thanks to Gwaine, Merlin has barely started. Instead of studying in the library or back in the dormitory where Gwaine is probably playing games on his computer, Merlin has staked out his favorite tree on the grounds.

It’s a tall oak tree round the back of the canteen, set against the sloping lawn between buildings. It’s big enough around that standing on one side, Merlin can’t see around to the other. Old Kilgharra, as the tree is called fondly by most students, is over six hundred years old and the biggest tree on the grounds. The perfect place for some solitary studying in Merlin’s opinion.

He settles down with his laptop, a notebook, and too many books about Napoleon scattered on the ground, leaning up against the tree and breathing in the light spring breeze that wafts over the grounds. It is the first really nice day they’ve had since October, not freezing cold and not raining. Merlin intends to enjoy it.

So far, he has only written the introduction to his essay, something about Napoleon and Russia and how it was a bad idea. It isn’t his best work.

He can’t let the sun distract him, though, and he opens his laptop to get to work.

He doesn’t get far - just a few sentences - before a shadow falls over him and the warmth of the sun dies. Looking up, he expects to see a cloud crawling across the sky, but instead, he finds himself in the long, narrow shadow of someone standing before him.

His mouth falls open slightly as he sees Arthur, and he stares.

“Hey,” Arthur says, casually as though he does this all the time, just walks up to people he barely knows and strikes up a conversation. On second thought, he probably does.

“Hi,” Merlin replies, confused.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asks, glancing around at the books, nose wrinkling.

“Studying?” Merlin doesn’t mean it to come out as a question, but it does and he immediately feels stupid.

“Outside?”

Merlin shrugs, and Arthur tilts his head to the side as he surveys Merlin.

“But there’s no internet.”

Merlin isn’t sure what to say. “It’s nice out. Less distractions without the internet. It’s better than the dormitory with Gwaine.”

At the mention of Gwaine, Arthur looks away from Merlin, gazing over the grounds instead. Merlin feels a twinge in his stomach and drops his eyes to his computer. 

“What are you studying?” Arthur asks a moment later, and Merlin is surprised as Arthur settles down on the grass next to him.

Merlin shakes himself, though, when Arthur turns to face him, clear blue eyes meeting his expectantly.

“It’s an essay for Agrevaine’s class,” he manages to reply.

“Napoleon?” Arthur asks knowingly, grabbing one of Merlin’s books off the ground and cracking it open. “Isn’t it due tomorrow? Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?”

Arthur speaks as though they’re friends, as though they’ve known each other for years, and it confuses Merlin. 

“I haven’t really worked on it,” he says finally, and Arthur makes a noise, handing back his book. 

“I’ve been putting mine off too. Something about Napoleon. Short blokes don’t really do it for me.”

Merlin isn’t sure if that’s a joke or not, and he says nothing. Instead, he piles his books together and casts around for something to distract himself from the fact that Arthur is sitting right next to him.

It doesn’t make sense. They’re not friends, and Merlin can’t guess how Arthur found him out there. The tree isn’t exactly in the main thoroughfare.

“You disappeared,” Arthur says at length when the only sound is the wind through the leaves above.

“Sorry?”

“At the party,” Arthur says. “I was going to introduce you to my new friends, girls.”

“Oh.” Merlin shifts awkwardly, a root pressed uncomfortably into the back of his leg. He must mean the girls from the match, the one who’d blushed the moment he looked at her. Merlin wants to hate her for it, but he had done the exact same thing not hours before.

“You do want to meet girls, don’t you?”

“Er, of course, yeah,” Merlin agrees, though it doesn’t come out very enthusiastically and even Arthur seems to notice.

Arthur pauses, watching Merlin for a long moment, and Merlin feels the tips of his ears going red.

“Have you always gone to Albion?”

“Since year ten.”

“Hmm,” Arthur says, less a word and more just a noise. Merlin doesn’t know what it means.

To be honest, Merlin isn’t surprised that Arthur hasn’t noticed him in the past four years. They don’t really run in the same circles and Merlin has never gone out of his way to be noticed by others. He prefers to stay in the background most of the time.

“Pretty sure I don’t remember seeing you until this year.”

Merlin frowns. “We’ve had ten classes together in the last four years.”

“Really?” Arthur sounds genuinely surprised. “You’re in my calculus class, though, right?”

“Er, yeah,” Merlin mutters, and the back of his neck goes redder.

“You sit with Lance,” Arthur says, and Merlin isn’t sure where he’s going with this.

He isn’t really sure what they’re doing at all. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, confused. He wonders if Arthur feels the awkwardness between them but he doesn’t seem to as he stretches, ruffling his hair and then smoothing it back.

Merlin tears his eyes from the line of Arthur’s neck, his cutting jawbones, and focuses on a ladybug climbing to the top of a blade of grass. It spreads its wings and buzzes away.

“Arthur, there you are,” someone says, frightening Merlin, and he jumps.

Above them, a towering shadow falls over them and Percy, Arthur’s mate from the rugby team, stands over them, eying the way Merlin jerks spastically.

“Yeah, Perce?” Arthur asks, a bit impatient.

Merlin glances away from Percy’s questioning gaze. Percy towers over him even when standing, a thick, muscular guy with a buzzed haircut. He could make anyone jump.

“We’re gonna be late for practice,” Percy says finally, looking at Arthur, who makes a face.

“Right, right,” he says, pushing himself up from the ground. 

Merlin lets him go, a mixture of relief and disappointment filling him as Arthur turns back.

“I’ll see you around,” he says, and Merlin meets his eyes for a brief second.

“Okay?” 

Arthur turns with Percy and leaves him surrounded by his books, still completely unsure of what just happened.

*

Merlin doesn’t tell Gwaine about the Tree Incident, as he has taken to referring to it. Incidentally, he has also started to avoid the tree, and not just because of the rain that seems to take it upon itself to dampen everyone’s hope of an early summer.

Sitting on his bed, Merlin gazes out the window at the water dripping down the pane, wind blowing slick leaves across the grounds, people bent double hurrying towards the safety of the surrounding buildings.

It’s been dark all day, but now that it’s nearly nighttime, the sky dims rapidly, everything cast in blue shadows.

The room is quiet for once but Gwaine isn’t there. Merlin is trying _not_ to think of where Gwaine might be. He almost preferred it when he didn’t know.

Gwaine is his best mate, though, so he would have told him eventually. He just wishes it hadn’t been because of Arthur.

As Merlin sits on his bed, contemplating watching a movie on his laptop or just going to bed, the door swings open and Gwaine enters, his clothes sodden with rain, water dripping down from his hair.

“Merlin, good,” he says as though he had somehow expected Merlin not to be there, though Merlin doesn’t know why. There is nowhere else for him to be on a Thursday night when it’s raining out and town is a good ten minute walk, not to mention curfew is only a few minutes away.

“Hi?” Merlin replies, watching Gwaine toe off his shoes and toss his wet jacket over the desk chair.

He doesn’t surprise Merlin by hopping on the bed with him, and Merlin doesn’t bother protesting him getting the sheets damp.

“I have a proposal,” Gwaine says, and Merlin immediately hesitates. Gwaine’s ideas are never good.

“What?” he asks, dreading it already, and Gwaine laughs, cuffing his shoulder.

“Relax, mate. So, you know Arthur?”

Merlin shoots him a look, but his unease doesn’t go away.

“He and his mates are having this thing next weekend. We should go.”

“What kind of thing?” Merlin asks suspiciously. There isn’t that much to do around school and town is pretty small all things considered.

“It’s a rugby match, but not the team. Just a thing, you know, with people. I’ll be playing.”

Merlin frowns. “You don’t expect me to play, right?” Merlin does _not_ play rugby. In fact, he barely enjoys watching it most days.

Gwaine laughs loudly, and Merlin doesn’t feel any better about the idea. The last time he played any sports, he’d tripped over his own feet and landed face down on the lawn.

“No. You’d probably break your leg, or someone would break it for you. Rugby guys are five times your size.”

“Then why do I have to go?”

“It’ll be fun,” Gwaine assures him, clapping a wet hand on Merlin’s neck and Merlin winces at the cold. “You’ll get to stare at guy’s asses up close without anyone suspecting.”

Merlin tries to glare at Gwaine, but Gwaine looks so sincere that he sighs.

“Who invited you?” he asks after a minute. It isn’t often that Gwaine is just invited to hang out with Arthur and his mates. All of Arthur’s mates are sports blokes who spend more time on the field than in the library. Merlin has never spoken to most of them but he’s also never had any desire to.

Gwaine shrugs in a way that tells Merlin more than he wants to know. “It just came up. So you’re gonna come, right? Better than spending the day in here.”

Merlin would probably prefer to spend the day in here, watching films or surfing the net, but Gwaine is his best mate, and he is right about one thing. Rugby is a spectator sport and he enjoys being that spectator.

“Fine,” he agrees finally, ignoring Gwaine’s excited squeeze of his shoulder. “But I’m not playing.”

“Of course not,” Gwaine agrees, and he hops off the bed. “I’ve gotta shower.”

Merlin lets him go and turns to the window when the door closes behind him. He just wishes he didn’t know that Arthur had been the one to invite Gwaine, and it had probably been Arthur who wanted Gwaine there. Merlin’s heart sunk and the rain pattered against the window.

*

“Morning,” Lance says as he takes his usual seat next to Merlin in class.

Merlin grunts in response. It isn’t exactly a good morning as Gwaine had woken him up entirely too early to ask if his hair looked good. That’s what Merlin gets for living with Gwaine, though.

“Did you finish the work?” Lance asks, digging in his rucksack for his notebook.

“Yeah,” Merlin replies, thinking with a grimace to the problems that had taken him entirely too long to finish and not just because he’d kept getting distracted by thoughts of the coming weekend and the prospect of having to watch Arthur and Gwaine flirt while getting sweaty and dirty together.

Lance says something else, but Merlin stares at his desk instead, willing his eyes to stay open.

“Hey, Arthur,” Lance says a minute later and Merlin’s head snaps up.

Arthur stands before his desk, a half-smile on his face as he nods at Lance.

“This seat taken?” he asks before sliding into the empty chair next to Merlin without waiting for his response.

Lance doesn’t seem to find it odd that Arthur has forsaken his usual seat in the back. Merlin does, though. He has never seen Arthur sit any further to the front than the second row to the back in all his years at Albion. 

“Alright?” Arthur greets him when Merlin stares a second too long.

“Hi,” he mutters, looking away. There’s nothing to look at and the teacher isn’t even there yet.

“So you’re coming on Saturday?” Arthur asks as he takes out his book, and Merlin realizes he’s talking to him, not Lance.

“I guess,” he says slowly.

“You’re not playing, are you?” Lance asks abruptly, sounding concerned.

“No,” Merlin assures him, but Arthur tilts his head to the side.

“Why not?”

Merlin actually laughs, though it’s a nervous kind of laugh. “Because look at me. I wasn’t made for sports. I can’t even walk half the time.”

“But you come to the matches.”

“Yeah, well, school spirit and that,” Merlin says awkwardly. He can’t admit that he comes to ogle the players in their small uniforms.

“You should play this weekend,” Arthur says earnestly, and Merlin pauses at the look on his face. “It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t fancy being crushed, thanks,” he says, eyes flitting to the cut on Arthur’s cheek, healing over but leaving a white scar behind.

“You won’t be crushed.” Arthur laughs and cuffs his shoulder. Merlin freezes at the touch. He feels as though he’s in some sort of weird twilight zone where Arthur is his friend and this is totally normal.

“Pretty sure I would,” he mutters in response, and he is actually grateful when the teacher enters the room. It isn’t that he isn’t glad that Arthur is talking to him. He just doesn’t know what any of it means. A week ago, Arthur had never spoken to him in his life and now he acted as though they were old friends. Maybe he is just trying to be nice to him because of Gwaine.

The thought doesn’t make Merlin feel better.

“I’ll put you on my team,” Arthur says simply. “I’ll protect you.”

Looking up, Merlin’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t get the chance to figure out what that means as the teacher greets them and class begins. 

*

Merlin really doesn’t want to be jealous of Gwaine, but he is when he watches him laughing and talking to Arthur out on the pitch. Merlin stands awkwardly on the sidelines, at least close enough this time that he can get a good look at Arthur whenever he runs past, sweat dripping down his brow and shining in the sun.

He isn’t sure if this version is more or less violent than the matches with referees. No one stops the way they slam into each other, leaving behind bruises and cuts. Despite Arthur’s wheedling, Merlin refused to join the play. He knows he would come out of it a pile of broken bones.

Gwaine is better than Merlin expected, strong and vicious as he goes for the ball. He takes out anyone in his way, even slamming into Percy as he goes for the ball. They wrestle around for a moment, but Gwaine grins triumphantly as he elbows his way out with the ball in hand. Merlin winces a second later, though, as Percy knocks him down and he lands flat on his back.

“Gwaine?” he calls when Gwaine rolls around for a second on his back, clutching his head. “Gwaine!”

He runs onto the pitch, ignoring the rest of the players and dropping to the ground at Gwaine’s side.

“Gwaine,” he says, and Gwaine blinks slowly and groans. “Are you okay?”

Gwaine shakes his head and then winces. “Yeah. Things are just a little fuzzy.”

“You could have a concussion,” Merlin says, reaching for Gwaine’s arm and dragging him into a sitting position.

Gwaine rubs his forehead and then grins at Merlin, lopsided. “This is why I stopped playing. Too many lost brain cells. Explains a lot, huh?”

Merlin knows when Gwaine is joking and when he’s not, so he pulls Gwaine to his feet and helps him off the field. 

“Sit here,” he says, pushing Gwaine down onto a bench and looking around for something to help. He spies a bottle of water and shoves it into Gwaine’s hands.

“You’re such a good wife,” Gwaine says, but he takes a drink anyway.

Percy jogs over a second later, looking concerned. “Hey, mate, you alright?”

“Fine,” Gwaine assures him with his best grin. “Takes more than you to knock me out.”

Merlin isn’t so sure about that considering Percy’s mass, but Gwaine grins stupidly at Percy while Merlin checks to make sure he’s really okay and not just saying it.

Even Percy looks a little worried, but Gwaine takes a swig of the water and shakes his head.

“Let’s get back out there.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Percy asks again, and Gwaine’s grin widens. He pulls himself up on Merlin’s shoulder, limping slightly on his left leg.

“Fit as a fiddle,” Gwaine says. “Though I certainly wouldn’t mind a workout.” He eyes Percy with a devious curl to his lips, and Percy blinks, looking more confused than anything.

Merlin barely refrains from rolling his eyes. Gwaine flirts with everyone, although Merlin wouldn’t have thought he would with Arthur right there.

“What’s the hold up?” Arthur asks, jogging over. Sweat rolls down his temple, and Merlin finds himself watching the drop slid down his throat and disappear beneath his shirt. Pulling himself together, he forces his eyes up, though when he does, he finds Arthur watching him, clear blue eyes locked onto his.

Merlin clears his throat and turns to Gwaine. “I don’t think you have a concussion.”

“You heard the doctor,” Gwaine says brightly, clapping Merlin’s shoulder. “I’m good to go. Let’s finish this game.”

He limps away towards the field and Percy follows, catching Gwaine when he nearly falls. Gwaine looks positively delighted.

“You sure you don’t want to play?” Arthur asks, and Merlin shakes his head.

“Watching is painful enough.” At Arthur’s furrowed eyebrows, he hurries to add, “I mean, it looks painful. Not that watching is painful. Watching is fun, I…”

He’s rambling, and Merlin bites his lip to stop from saying something stupid. 

Arthur laughs, his smile slightly crooked, and Merlin’s kneels feel stupidly weak at the sight.

“Maybe another time,” Arthur says. “I’ll get you on the field eventually.”

He grabs Merlin’s shoulder for half a second, giving it a squeeze, and heads back to the field. Merlin lets him go, heart thudding in his chest and his shoulder tingling where Arthur touched him.

*

Merlin really has to get over his hopeless crush on Arthur, he decides when Gwaine leaves the dorm after a text message. He leaves his phone on the desk and it rings a second after the door shuts.

Sliding off his bed, Merlin goes to put it on silent so maybe he can get some work done. Arthur’s name on the screen catches his attention and he can’t help opening the message.

_Don’t keep me waiting,_ it says.

A hot drop of something close to jealousy drops into Merlin’s stomach as he stares at the words, words typed by Arthur not seconds ago.

Gwaine is going to meet Arthur right now, somewhere behind the rose bushes in the darkness. It isn’t a pleasant idea, and Merlin drops the phone on the desk, wishing he hadn’t read it. 

He intends to return to his studying, but he can’t stop thinking about Arthur. Arthur and Gwaine. Arthur and Gwaine together, alone, behind the rose bushes.

He isn’t sure what makes him do it, but he doesn’t pick up his book. Instead, he grabs his shoes and shoves them on, grabbing a jacket as he heads out the door.

As he walks, back hunched and feeling particularly out in the open going down the empty corridors, Merlin heads for the grounds, skirting around the large stone buildings and heading for the gardener’s shed.

Curfew isn’t for another half an hour, but he still feels uneasy, as though he’s sneaking around, and he kind of is, especially when he spots the rose bushes and slows down, looking around to make sure no one has followed him.

Ducking behind the shed, he creeps around the large oak tree to the edge of the rose bushes. They grow high, untamed by the old gardener who putters around the grounds most days. Small, green buds have begun to grow. It’s still a bit too chilly for the roses to bloom fully, but come a few months, there will be color to outweigh the thorns.

Merlin freezes at a noise beyond the bushes, heart climbing into his throat, and he peers through the brambles.

Arthur leans against a large tree, trousers bunched around his thighs, and Gwaine is on his knees, blocking Merlin’s view.

Merlin’s heart drops. It isn’t as though he didn’t know what was going on, but seeing it makes it all so much more real.

For a moment, he ducks back, turning his back on Arthur and Gwaine, pressing the heel of his hands to his eyes as though trying to black out the vision. What had he expected, coming here? He’s brought this upon himself, really.

“Fuck,” he hears, and turns sharply, unable to stop himself from peering through the brambles.

Arthur’s hand fists in Gwaine’s hair and his head is tilted back, exposing his beautiful jawbone. He looks gorgeous, his lips parted, his eyes closed.

“You were late,” he breathes as Gwaine moves, and Merlin tries not to watch that part. He would be mortified if anyone ever spied on him, and he immediately feels a wave of guilt, but it’s overcome when Gwaine glances up at Arthur.

“Had to get away from Merlin.”

Merlin’s stomach sinks like a rock. Gwaine knows he likes Arthur. He knows it full well, and yet here he is, sucking Arthur off for a couple quid to go to the pubs with. Does he have no respect for their friendship? Then again, Merlin hasn’t told him not to. Merlin has barely said anything about it.

Arthur merely groans in response, and Merlin thinks he’s seen enough. He sneaks away with a sinking heart.

The walk back takes longer, but it may be because he drags his feet with every step. Obviously Arthur is the one Gwaine is working on, and Merlin needs to get over his stupid crush because Arthur barely even knows who he is most days, and Gwaine’s the one sucking him off. Not Merlin.

When he reaches the dormitory, he goes to bed instead of finishing the homework. He doesn’t fall asleep right away, though, and he hears Gwaine return, the soft click of the door, but Gwaine stays quiet and Merlin pretends to be asleep as Gwaine changes and gets into bed as well.

*

Merlin busies himself with his maths textbook as Arthur slides into the seat next to him. He still hasn’t figured out why Arthur has decided to sit next to him, but he really wishes he wouldn’t since it just makes him sad.

“Alright?” Arthur asks, and Merlin jerks a shoulder in response. He doesn’t really feel like talking to Arthur, but Lance isn’t there yet.

Arthur tosses him a strange look when he just digs in his sack for a pen.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Merlin says.

Arthur doesn’t look convinced. Merlin tries to ignore him, but it’s difficult when he’s sitting right next to him. It was easier when he sat in the back and didn’t know who Merlin was.

“Bad week?”

“No.” Merlin sighs, wishing Arthur would stop talking. He wasn’t making it any easier. 

Arthur watches him for a minute but then he seems to drop it. “A couple of us are going to town tomorrow. You can come if you want.”

It isn’t exactly an invitation and Merlin wonders who Arthur means by ‘a couple.’

“Er, I don’t…” he says vaguely, trailing off when no actual excuse comes to mind. Honestly, he doesn’t want to spend time with Arthur when he knows it’s just going to make him feel worse about the whole situation.

“Gwaine’s coming,” Arthur says, and if he thinks that will make Merlin more likely to agree, he’s wrong. Merlin definitely doesn’t want to spend time with Arthur and Gwaine together.

“Yeah, I think I have homework,” Merlin mutters, but Arthur scoffs.

“What homework? It’s nearly the end of the year. Besides, it won’t be all night. Just hanging out, dinner maybe, a film. Fun. You’re not opposed to fun?”

“No,” Merlin says, and Arthur smiles at him. It’s the kind of smile that makes him melt, willing to do just about anything so that Arthur will look at him like that for a little while longer.

“So you’ll come.”

Merlin can’t think of an excuse valid enough to get him out of it, so he sighs. “Fine.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Arthur says, but he’s still smiling, and Lance comes in the room then so Merlin doesn’t get a chance to say anything more.

*

Town is small, by normal standards. There’s a long Main Street with a pub, a few trinket-y shops, and some larger stores, but that’s about it. The rest is residential areas and the few local schools. 

Merlin doesn’t go to town all that often since there isn’t much to do there. Aside from the stores and the houses, a little stream runs around the eastern edge of the town. A park has been made around it, peppered with trees and benches. 

It’s here that they wander through when they go to town. Merlin walks alongside Arthur, Gwaine, and Percy. He still isn’t sure what he’s doing there or what they’re even doing, but he hasn’t said anything. Instead, he kicks a leaf on the ground and watches Gwaine in front of him, talking with Arthur.

Percy ambles up beside Merlin, and Merlin jumps a little. Percy nods at Arthur and Gwaine.

“What’s going on there?”

“No idea,” Merlin mutters, though it’s far from the truth. 

“Didn’t think Arthur even liked Gwaine, the way he talked about him.”

Merlin glances at Percy. He’s never spoken much to Percy, but Percy doesn’t speak much to anyone, it seems. He’s always just a looming presence, silent but loud at the same time. 

“What’d he say?”

Percy shrugs. “They just, their personalities don’t seem like they’d mesh well. They’re both pretty headstrong, right?”

Merlin has to agree on that point. Gwaine can be stubborn as hell when he wants to be. He’d also never shown any interest in Arthur up until a few weeks ago either.

They pass under a leafy tree, the town coming into view with the first small house. Merlin pauses, glancing at Percy.

“So, you and Arthur are pretty good mates?” he asks, plucking a leaf off the tree and tearing it into tiny pieces.

Percy shrugs again. “Guess so. We play sports a lot. I’m probably better mates with Lance, though, and Arthur spends more time with Leon.”

Merlin wonders why Leon isn’t there with them instead, but an alarming thought comes to him as they walk. Maybe Gwaine and Arthur are trying to set him up with Percy.

It isn’t that Percy isn’t good-looking, and he’s certainly fit, but Merlin’s just not interested in Percy, and he doubts Percy is interested in him.

Arthur glances over his shoulder at Merlin, and Merlin feels his stomach sinking at the thought. The last thing he needs is for other people to be setting him up.

“Anybody hungry?” Arthur asks, and Gwaine groans, setting his hands on his stomach.

“I’m starving,” he proclaims, slowing down to Merlin’s side and grabbing his arm. “Merlin’s starving too, right?”

“Uh, sure,” Merlin agrees at Gwaine’s grin.

“We could get some fish and chips,” Arthur suggests as they reach the main road into town. Behind them, the sun has already begun to drop in the sky and a chill fills the air. “Then maybe check out the cinema.”

Merlin hopes this isn’t some weird double date thing, but he’s getting that vibe as they enter town and head for the chip shop just down the road from the cinema. 

As they walk, the sun drops down behind him, and street lamps flicker on in the twilight. Merlin doesn’t often go into town at night, and things look a little different, a little calmer and softer in the dim light.

Gwaine releases his arm and steps over to Percy instead. Merlin is glad for a moment until he realizes Arthur is right next to him. 

“How’d you do on the maths exam?” he asks as they turn onto the main street, passing under trees planted in boxes, past little shops, most of which are already closed as the hour grows later.

“Fine,” Merlin replies, though he doesn’t quite understand why Arthur is asking him about maths when he is clearly here on a date with Gwaine, but Gwaine is chatting with Percy ahead of them and doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to Arthur.

Maybe it’s not a date, Merlin thinks when Arthur smiles at him. Maybe it’s just Gwaine and Arthur conspiring together for whatever reason. He can’t figure it out and he’s glad when they reach the chip shop and the girl at the counter greets them boredly.

As Arthur and Percy order, Gwaine slings an arm over Merlin’s shoulder and lowers his voice. “Not too shabby, huh?”

Merlin glances at Arthur’s back, the way his tee-shirt stretches over his muscles, the strength of his shoulders, the golden-tan skin of his neck. He shouldn’t be staring, though, and he looks away.

“Yeah,” he mutters instead, feeling a twist in his stomach. He should be happy and supportive of Gwaine’s choices, but he’d rather Arthur was here for him. Not that that would ever happen.

They get their food and eat it on the sidewalk, heading for the cinema at the end of the street. It isn’t a big cinema and it usually only shows three movies at a time. The ones playing tonight, Merlin has never heard of so he lets someone else choose and picks at his chips instead.

Percy glances over. “You don’t look too excited.”

Merlin drops the chip back in the bag. “Just, you know, don’t like being set-up.”

Percy frowns for a second and Merlin’s eyes widen.

“I mean, not that it wasn’t a nice idea, it’s just— I kind of fancy someone else.”

For a moment, Percy says nothing and then glances back at Arthur and Gwaine. 

“Everyone has a different type, I suppose.”

Merlin feels relieved that Percy is taking it so well, and he feels better about the whole situation they enter the cinema with tickets to a movie Merlin has never heard of.

In the lobby, they contemplate buying too-expensive popcorn.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Arthur asks. “Not even some sweets?”

Merlin shrugs. “I’m not a big fan of sweets.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Arthur asks, smiling, and Merlin feels his legs turn to jell-o at the sight. This is getting ridiculous.

“Arthur?” A voice comes from behind them before Merlin can come up with a decent reply, and they turn to find two girls standing behind them at the concessions stand.

Merlin immediately recognizes the one with curly hair and her friend from the party and the match a few weeks ago.

“Gwen,” Arthur says, sounding pleased, and something unpleasant curls in Merlin’s stomach. “What are you doing here?”

“Just going to the movies,” she says, although Merlin sees the light flush along her cheekbones and he hates her for it. It’s not her fault, but he can’t help it.

Arthur smiles in response. Merlin frowns, and it takes Arthur a second to realize he’s standing there.

“Oh, this is Merlin, Percy, and Gwaine.” He says it almost as an afterthought.

“Hello,” Gwen greets them, a sweet, honest smile that makes Merlin dislike her even more. 

“How do you know Arthur?” Gwaine asks, loud and brash as always, but Merlin is glad someone is talking.

“We met at the rugby match a few weeks ago,” her friend pipes in, the tall one with long brown hair. 

Gwaine makes an uninterested noise, and Merlin doesn’t blame him. He’d rather not discuss how pretty Gwen is and how Arthur probably likes her a lot more than he likes Merlin, and how Gwen, despite how much Merlin irrationally hates her, is probably the nicest person in the world.

He swallows and turns away, wandering off towards the theater. No one seems to notice him going right away, but Gwaine catches up a second later.

“You okay?” he asks as they reach the door to room number four. 

Merlin jerks his shoulders in response. This whole night has been a disaster. First Gwaine tried to set him up with Percy, and then they ran into the girl Arthur clearly likes. He’d rather just have stayed home and watched reruns of _The Office_ on his laptop.

“It’ll be fine,” Gwaine assures him, though Merlin is fairly sure that Gwaine has no idea why he’s upset, but at least he says it. At least he tries.

The girls end up seeing the same movie as they are, and Merlin finds himself sandwiched between Percy and Arthur, while on the other side of Arthur, Gwen has taken the seat. He has absolutely no idea what the movie is about, but he keeps his gaze on the screen as the previews start.

He jumps when Arthur leans over, shoulder pressed to his, mouth angled towards Merlin’s ear.

“Colin Firth is a great actor, don’t you think?”

Merlin can feel the warm ghost of Arthur’s breath against his neck and he fights back a shiver, though it doesn’t stop his heart from climbing into his throat at Arthur’s closeness, the warmth of Arthur’s shoulder seeping into his. Their arms brush on the armrest and Merlin freezes.

“Yeah,” he breathes, forcing himself to make words. If he turns ever so slightly to the right, he’ll be able to see the curve of Arthur’s nose, smell his hair, but he keeps his face forward, unable to do anything.

“When I was a kid, my sister was obsessed with him,” Arthur goes on, keeping his voice low. Merlin tries not to shiver from the brush of Arthur’s arm against his. “She watched every movie he was ever in and made me watch it too. I’ve got to say, that scene in _Pride and Prejudice_ in the lake, if I never see that again, I’ll be happy. She used to play it and rewind over and over.”

He grins, and Merlin isn’t thinking about Colin Firth or the lake scene which he, too, watched too many times as a teenager.

“How old’s your sister?” he asks finally, licking his lips and watching on the screen as a car blows up in the preview. 

“She’s actually my half-sister, but she’s a year older than me. She’s at the University of Glasgow, studying to be a lawyer.”

“Oh?” Merlin can’t seem to form any decent sentences, not with Arthur this close.

“She’s a pitbull,” Arthur confides. “Never takes no for an answer. Hence why I try to stay on her good side.”

Merlin huffs out an awkward laugh. Beside him, Percy doesn’t seem to be listening to any of this, watching the screen. Gwaine sits on the other side of Percy, gazing at him thoughtfully.

“You sure you don’t want popcorn?” Arthur asks as the lights go down.

Merlin shakes his head, but he wonders why Arthur isn’t talking to Gwen next to him. She seems to be whispering with Mithian, but she stops when the lights go down as well. Arthur doesn’t ask again, but he shifts, his shoulder leaving Merlin’s, but his arm stays on the rest, pressed against Merlin’s.

For a panicked moment, Merlin isn’t sure what to do, but Arthur doesn’t seem to mind, so he takes his chances and leaves his arm there as well.

If anyone asks him later what the movie was about, he won’t be able to tell them. He spends most of the time thinking about Arthur, sneaking glances in the darkness, tracing the curve of his mouth in the dim light of the screen. He thinks about Arthur’s mouth entirely too much most days - what it would feel like to kiss him, if Arthur is a good kisser (Merlin’s sure that he is), if Arthur would pull him in close, tight, warm hands wrapped around his waist.

By the end of the movie, Merlin’s head is somewhere else entirely, and he barely notices the credits rolling and Arthur’s arm moving from his. 

“I thought that was a very good movie,” Mithian says as they exit the theater.

“I don’t know,” Gwen disagrees. “A little too much violence.”

“Not enough sex,” Gwaine adds with a leer at the girls, who eye him cautiously. 

“What’d you think?” Arthur asks, nudging Merlin when he doesn’t speak.

Jolted out of his fantasies of Arthur pressing him up against the wall of the gardener’s shed, Merlin shakes his head and feels a hot flush on the back of his neck. 

“Oh, er, it was good,” he says vaguely, the flush of embarrassment growing when Arthur arches an eyebrow at his response.

“I didn’t think you would like all the death.”

Merlin’s eyes widen. He really has no idea what happened in the movie. All he remembers was a hot guy breaking through a lot of windows and Colin Firth was there. Otherwise, nothing.

“Well, you know,” he splutters. “When it’s integral to the plot.”

Arthur’s lips press together, but he seems to be holding back a smile. Merlin looks away, catching sight of Gwen and Mithian whispering together again, and Mithian gives Gwen a shove towards Arthur.

“What are you guys doing now?” she asks, clearing her throat and smoothing down her flowery skirt.

Arthur shrugs. “Probably just going back to campus.”

Mithian elbows Gwen when Gwen hesitates. She tucks back a curl and smiles at him. “There’s a cafe just ‘round the corner if you want to go,” she says, glancing first at Arthur and then at the rest of them.

Merlin does not want to go to a cafe, not with Gwen and Mithian, and not even with Gwaine considering the way Gwaine glances at him. He wants this evening to be over. He wants to go back to his dormitory so he can jerk off to images of Arthur in peace and attempt to get over this hopeless crush.

“Sure,” Arthur agrees easily enough, and Gwen’s smile makes Merlin’s insides curl into a ball.

They leave the cinema, following Gwen and Mithian, but Merlin drags his feet near the back. The air has turned chilly and he zips his jacket, listening to Gwen and Arthur laughing about something. At the corner, he hesitates, letting everyone else go ahead of him. Gwaine turns as Merlin lingers back.

“You coming?” he asks. 

The rest of the group pauses, and Merlin shies away from the gazes.

“I think I’m just gonna head back. I’ve got lots of homework to do.”

“Homework?” Gwaine repeats skeptically. 

“Yeah,” Merlin says, taking a step back. He just wants to get away from the whole group and the whole night. He doesn’t want to be there to watch Gwen flirt with Arthur and be stuck with Percy. “I’ve got Agrevaine’s essay I still haven’t worked on.”

“Okay,” Gwaine agrees slowly, although he’s giving Merlin that look that says he doesn’t believe him for a second.

“So, uh, I’ll see you later,” he says, taking a step back, but Arthur steps forward. 

“I’ll go with you,” he says, and Merlin stops.

“No, no,” he protests. “Stay here. Go have coffee.”

Arthur smiles. “You’re not afraid of the dark?”

“It’s not that far.”

“I’ll just walk you back,” Arthur insists, turning to Gwen. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Merlin doesn’t feel any better at that and turns, heading away from Arthur before he can get away. He gets about twenty feet before Arthur catches up to him. The rest of the group has already turned the corner.

“Are you okay?” 

“Fine.”

“Was it the movie?”

Merlin frowns. “What? The movie was fine.”

He has no idea what happened in the movie, but he isn’t going home because of it. He’s going home because being on a date with someone he doesn’t even know doesn’t appeal to him in the least, and watching Arthur flirt with everyone just makes him sad.

Arthur is silent for a moment as they walk, and Merlin tugs his jacket tighter. Passing through the park, leaves rustle in the breeze, but Merlin can barely see the trees.

Halfway back to the dormitories, Arthur speaks again.

“Agrevaine didn’t set any essays.”

Merlin’s heart jumps into his throat, caught in his own lie.

“It’s an extra credit thing,” he mumbles, looking ahead to the glow of Albion’s buildings in the distance.

“Why didn’t you want to go to the cafe?”

Merlin casts around for a better excuse but he can’t come up with anything other than, “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

He knows Arthur is watching him. He can feel it, but he doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he speeds up.

Arthur keeps the pace, though.

“Do you not like Gwen?”

Merlin sighs. “I don’t even know her.”

No, he doesn’t like Gwen. He doesn’t like the way she smiles at Arthur or how she blushes every time he looks at her. He doesn’t like how obvious she can be about her feelings when Merlin can’t even smile at Arthur without feeling like an idiot. 

He presses on towards school. The sooner he gets to the safety of his room, the better.

“Do you just not like hanging out with me?” Arthur asks, and Merlin doesn’t know what to say.

“No,” he says, pausing as they reach the entrance to the grounds. “You’re, you’re fine, great. I’m just tired. That’s really it.” 

He wishes he could spend more time with Arthur, but alone with Arthur, not with a group. He doubts Arthur would understand that, though. 

He hesitates, a question bubbling to the surface, and it comes out before he wraps his brain around it.

“Do you like Gwen?”

“She’s nice,” Arthur says. “I don’t know her that well either.”

_But you want to_ , Merlin adds silently. He knows how it works. The beautiful boys end up with the beautiful girls and Merlin ends up in the library stressing over his history essays.

“Yeah,” he mutters.

Arthur pauses a second. “So you’re not seeing anyone?”

Merlin almost laughs, shaking his head. “No,” he says firmly.

“Why not?”

Merlin is glad it’s dark so Arthur can’t see the blush crawling along his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Just nobody to date, I guess.”

“Gwaine said you, uh, you like blokes?”

He is going to murder Gwaine, he decides. It isn’t exactly a secret but it’s not public knowledge either.

Grimacing, he jerks his head. “Gwaine has a big mouth.”

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees, and Merlin pauses as what that might mean enters his mind, considering how Arthur and Gwaine really know each other.

They cross the grounds towards Merlin’s dormitory, passing under large circles of yellow lamps above. 

“You could probably find someone,” Arthur says as they reach Merlin’s door and stop.

Merlin quirks a smile, glancing at Arthur. “When I go to uni, maybe,” he says, though he wishes he could just come out and say it, but he doesn’t want to scare Arthur. He also doesn’t want to deal with the impending disappointment when Arthur says that he’s flattered, but he’s straight and interested in Gwen, and whatever he and Gwaine do, it’s just filler until he can get out of there and get a real girlfriend.

Arthur nods after a second but they still stand on the step.

“I should go,” Merlin says finally. “And you should get back.”

“Right,” Arthur agrees, laying his hand on the edge of the door, and Merlin doesn’t move to open it yet.

He isn’t sure what they’re waiting for, but he keeps waiting, trying not to think how beautiful Arthur is, even in the harsh filtered glare of the lamp. 

They stand there, a cricket chirping somewhere in the grounds, and Merlin isn’t sure he imagines the way Arthur shifts, tilting his head slightly to the left and moving in closer.

Merlin can see every inch of Arthur’s face, and his heart pounds against his Adam’s apple. This can’t be happening.

And then it isn’t happening. The door opens abruptly to the hall and a guy Merlin doesn’t know steps out. Arthur jerks back, and Merlin blinks, confused.

“I should go,” Arthur says not a second later. “They’re probably waiting for me.”

“Right.” Merlin nods. 

“I’ll see you in class,” Arthur says, and Merlin nods again.

They don’t say anything else, and Arthur hops down the stairs, heading for the front gate again.

Sighing, Merlin reaches for the handle and pushes the door open. He’s just been imagining things. He’s going to take a long, hot shower and get rid of the tension coiled around inside him. By the time Gwaine gets back, he’ll be asleep and this whole night will be forgotten.

*

Merlin doesn’t forget the night. Instead, he dwells on it for days afterwards. He replays the almost-kiss until he’s sure he just imagined it. It isn’t unlike him to make something out of nothing, and a slight movement on Arthur’s part could have been just that and Merlin had fabricated the thought that it somehow was a kiss.

Gwaine hasn’t said anything about the evening, but Merlin is fairly sure he’s biding his time, waiting until Merlin’s guard is down and he’ll tell him the truth about how he feels. 

Tuesday, Merlin drags himself into maths, through the rain pouring down on the grounds, and his hair is sopping wet by the time he makes it to class. Sloshing into his seat, he wrings out his sleeve.

“Wet,” Lance comments vaguely and Merlin grunts in response.

He’s glad to find the chair next to him empty. He isn’t sure he can face Arthur after the mental way he acted. Having a few days to reflect on it, Merlin had decided he’d been stupid and a little rude to leave after the film. He dreaded what Gwaine would have to say about it. 

“Good weekend?”

Merlin glances over at Lance, but Lance merely quirks a smile at him. The rain seems to have gotten to everyone, reminding them that there is still a ways to go until they are free from school.

“It was… fine,” he says finally, turning to the board, but the door opens and Arthur enters.

For a second, Merlin thinks maybe he’ll go to his usual seat in the back, or rather, he hopes he will, but Merlin isn’t that lucky. Arthur slides into the seat next to him, dumping his rucksack on the floor and propping his elbows on the table.

“Lance,” he says, surprising Merlin. “You’re coming on Saturday?”

Lance jerks a shoulder, and Merlin has no idea what Arthur is talking about. 

“I don’t know. I think I may be partied out.”

“We’ve only got two months left,” Arthur points out, completely ignoring Merlin. It bothers Merlin more than it ever did when Arthur didn’t know he existed. “Gotta enjoy it while we can. There’ll be girls there.”

From Arthur’s tone, Merlin takes that to mean that Gwen will be at this party, this party that he is clearly not invited to.

Lance smiles slightly. “Well, you’re right. We don’t have much time left.”

“So you’ll be there,” Arthur says simply as though the decision has already been made. 

“Yeah,” Lance agrees.

Merlin sits back between them, feeling about as useful as a fork in a soup bowl. Is Arthur ignoring him on purpose? He doesn’t like the feeling he gets, and he doesn’t quite understand it.

Then again, it isn’t as though he and Arthur are friends, really. They have almost nothing in common and Arthur can be a huge prat at times, like now. Unfortunately, Merlin still likes him despite all that. He can’t help it.

He doesn’t say anything, then, and concentrates on finding a pen until Arthur leans over to him.

“You missed a great time last weekend,” he says, and Merlin’s hopes of Arthur inviting him to the party (not that he wants to go. He doesn’t. He doesn’t) are dashed.

“Oh?” he asks dully. He definitely imagined the almost-kiss, made it up out of thin air.

Arthur nods, watching Merlin closely, eyes narrowed slightly. “Gwen’s a really nice girl.”

“Great,” Merlin mutters, and he’s relieved when class starts and Arthur has to stop talking. He doesn’t need to hear about how fantastic Gwen is and how happy they will both be once they get over the awkward flirting stage. 

Arthur tosses him a brief look, but at least he doesn’t talk about Gwen anymore, and Merlin spends the rest of the lesson dutifully ignoring him.

*

Merlin can’t get the non-invitation out of his mind. Despite everything, he’d sort of thought he and Arthur were friends now. Then again, what does Merlin really know about Arthur anyway? He only knows what gossip at school tells him, and that isn’t much.

Sitting in his room, he can’t concentrate on his textbook, not when Gwaine sits across the room, tossing a ball up and down and up and down until Merlin wants to slap him.

He shouldn’t be angry at Gwaine, but Gwaine is the one who started all this. Gwaine is the one giving Arthur blow jobs on a regular schedule. 

Merlin looks away when Gwaine glances at him, and he thinks maybe Gwaine knows how he feels about the whole thing. They haven’t talked about it, but the not-talking has made it fairly obvious.

The textbook is so dry Merlin can’t concentrate on more than a few words at a time, and when Gwaine phone rings with a text, he looks up.

Gwaine types something in, quick, and shoves it in his pocket.

“Who was that?” Merlin asks, although he isn’t sure he wants to know.

“Client,” Gwaine says, though he makes no moves to get up.

“Arthur?”

The annoyance must come across in his tone because Gwaine pushes himself up and turns to Merlin.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Merlin.”

Merlin frowns. He has no idea what Gwaine is talking about. “Sorry?”

“You told Percy you liked someone else.”

“I do!”

Gwaine scrunches up his nose. “Who?”

“You know who!” Merlin can’t believe Gwaine has just forgotten. How is that even possible? He’s only had a crush on Arthur for the past two years.

“I really don’t, mate,” Gwaine says, shaking his head, and Merlin can’t believe him.

Merlin groans and slaps a hand to his face. Why can’t his best friend be Lance who would completely understand and never step on his toes when it came to the guy he fancied? Instead it’s Gwaine, who measures his moral compass with a stick.

“First you mess around with Arthur,” he says, the anger bubbling to the surface. “Then he’s actually nice to me, and _then_ you set me up with Percy! I really don’t understand you, Gwaine. You _know_ how I feel about Arthur, but instead of stepping aside, you keep messing around with him. You keep texting him. You go out with him. What am I supposed to think?”

Gwaine stares as Merlin shouts himself into silence.

Merlin doesn’t care that he’s yelling at Gwaine. He shouldn’t have to say any of this in the first place to his _best mate_.

Gwaine shuts his mouth after a moment. “Wow. I didn’t know you were that thick.”

“Excuse me?”

Gwaine tosses the ball away, shaking his head. “You are a real idiot, Merlin, and you don’t even realize it.”

Merlin’s eyes narrow. This isn’t exactly the apology he was hoping for, but he should know better than to hope for an apology from Gwaine.

“First of all, I didn’t set you up with Percy,” Gwaine says. “ _I_ want to fuck Percy, so get that out of your head. Secondly, I’m not messing around with Arthur.”

Merlin scoffs at that. Even if the Percy thing is true, he knows Gwaine is lying now.

“I saw you,” he says. “I saw you and him together. And I know he keeps texting you.”

At Gwaine’s groan, Merlin merely crosses his arm over his chest. He’d like to see Gwaine talk his way out of this one.

“Yeah, he messages me,” he admits. “And yeah, we fooled around a couple times, but he texts me so I can tell him shit about you.”

Merlin stares. “About me?”

“You, the tosser who thinks his best mate would take someone you liked just like that. I’m not a complete dick.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t, jumping to conclusions like that.” Gwaine sighs. “Arthur fancies you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Merlin says automatically, scowling at how Gwaine rolls his eyes.

“Yes, he does. Although since you told Percy that you fancy someone else, he may not be too keen on hanging around you anymore.”

Merlin shakes his head. None of this makes any sense. “I said I didn’t fancy Percy.”

“You said you fancied someone else and you didn’t like being set-up,” Gwaine corrects him. “And since Percy, and everyone else, thought you were there for Arthur, you can see where the confusion comes in.”

“But—”

Merlin has no explanation for what’s going on. Something tight squeezes his chest as he thinks of the way Arthur had looked at him in class the other day, how he had completely ignored him.

Gwaine holds up his hands in defeat. “I give up, mate. I was just trying to get you shagged, but it seems your brain is fundamentally against it.”

“Wait,” Merlin says, panic building up inside him as it hits him fully. “Arthur thinks I don’t like him?”

“Which is a real shame,” Gwaine says as his mobile goes off again. He pulls it out and smiles at the message. “Since he’s spent the past three weeks threatening that if I tell you that he fancies you, he’ll tell Percy I have gonorrhea.”

“But you just told me.”

Gwaine grins and holds up his phone. “Going to meet Percy in five for some fooling around, free of charge.”

Merlin can’t help rolling his eyes. Of course Gwaine gets something out of this, and Merlin only gets miscommunication and heartache.

“So what am I supposed to do?”

Gwaine pauses thoughtfully, flipping his hair back. “An apology would be nice.”

“I guess, yeah, I should apologize to Arthur.”

“Not to Arthur,” Gwaine scoffs. “You did just yell at me and accuse me of stealing your non-existent boyfriend.”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” Merlin says. “I guess you were trying to help me.”

“Of course I was,” Gwaine assures him, slipping off his bed and reaching for his shoes. “And I’m gonna give you one last piece of advice.”

“What’s that?” Merlin asks uneasily.

Gwaine shoves his shoes on and grabs his jacket. “Crash the party on Saturday and snog Arthur senseless.”

The door shuts behind Gwaine with a loud click and Merlin looks down at the book in his lap. He’s not going to get any studying done now, that’s for sure.

*

Arthur hasn’t talked to him the rest of the week in class and Merlin begins to feel more and more stupid. How had he not seen it? Sure, Arthur hadn’t exactly been direct, but in the years since Merlin had had a crush on Arthur, he hadn’t even spoken to him about it. At least Arthur had taken that step.

Merlin has no idea, however, how he is supposed to break the ice between them now that Arthur thinks he fancies someone else.

So he lets maths class pass in silence and waits for Saturday to roll around.

“You are coming, yeah?” Gwaine asks as Merlin sits motionless in front of his computer. 

“I…”

“Because now is your only shot. If you wait, it’ll just go on forever and you’ll hate yourself for it, and you’ll see me happy with Percy, and Arthur miserable and pissed off all the time until you go to uni, but I think Arthur mentioned something about Cambridge, so you might be stuck with him for longer, and—”

“Alright, I get it,” Merlin interrupts. He doesn’t like the way his heart palpitates at the thought of going, uninvited, to the party and finding Arthur.

Gwaine is right, though. This could be his only chance, and if he chickens out, he’ll regret it.

“Alright,” he says again. “Let’s go.”

Gwaine grins and tosses Merlin’s jacket at him. It hits him in the face, and he pulls it down.

They meet Percy at the bottom of the hill heading towards the Sparrow House where music already thuds over the lawn. Gwaine greets Percy with a kiss that knots Merlin’s stomach, thinking of what he’s about to do and how badly it could all go.

The party seems just like the last one, except Gwaine and Percy disappear the minute they reach the house and Merlin is left on his own.

Maneuvering through the crowded, dark hallways, Merlin looks for Arthur, but he doesn’t see him anywhere. He spots Lance in the backyard, chatting with a girl with curly hair that looks suspiciously like Gwen.

He doesn’t need to be worrying about Gwen, though, not when he’s starting to feel sick the longer he looks. This isn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped, and when he finally spots Arthur near the table filled with alcohol, he actually ducks around the corner.

Pressed against the wall, surrounded by drunk party-goers, Merlin takes a deep breath and tells himself to get a grip. It’s just Arthur. Just Arthur with his big blue eyes, chiseled jaw bones, crooked teeth that show whenever he smiles, and God, Merlin can’t do this.

No, he tells himself firmly. He has to. He can. He can.

Bracing himself, he forces himself away from the wall and turns, heading for the table where Arthur pours himself a drink.

He steps up, setting his hand on the table awkwardly. “Hey,” he says, immediately feeling stupid when Arthur glances at him, clearly not too pleased to see him.

“Hi,” Arthur replies, grabbing his drink and taking a long sip.

“Good party,” Merlin says, and Arthur shoots him a look.

This is not going how he’d planned, not that he’d planned anything other than showing up.

“Okay,” Arthur says, turning away from Merlin to the room. 

Grimacing, Merlin has to say something.

“I don’t fancy anyone else,” he says, blurts out over the din from the stereo and people talking around them.

Arthur glances at him, an eyebrow furrowed, and Merlin swallows down the nerves rising in his throat.

Someone knocks into Merlin and he stumbles forward a step. Glancing around, it’s far too crowded in the sitting room, and despite the throbbing music, he feels like everyone can hear.

“Can we go somewhere quieter?” he asks, staring at Arthur.

Arthur hesitates for a moment but then he knocks back the rest of his drink and heads for the front door.

Out on the lawn, Arthur moves away from the house and the groups of people gathered in the near-darkness.

“What?” he asks finally as they reach a lone tree and turns to face Merlin, a solemn set to his mouth.

It isn’t any easier without all the noise, and Merlin draws together whatever courage he has.

“Things got mixed up,” he says slowly. “When I told Percy I fancied someone else, I thought I was being set-up with him.”

“Percy?” Arthur repeats skeptically, and Merlin jerks his shoulders.

“I thought you liked Gwen.”

“Gwen?”

Merlin huffs. “Are you just going to repeat everything?”

Arthur shakes his head. “Sorry. It’s just, how could you think that? I thought I was pretty obvious.”

“You didn’t even actually invite me out. You said, ‘you can come if you want.’ How is that obvious?”

Arthur shrugs. “I talked to you. I sat next to you. I invited you to things.”

“That’s not obvious.”

Arthur huffs. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have just said, ‘hey, Merlin, fancy a snog after the rugby match?’”

“That would have been a bit more obvious,” Merlin allows, “if you hadn’t been fooling around with my best mate at the same time.”

Arthur actually looks guilty at that and Merlin feels slightly better that this isn’t all his fault. 

“Gwaine and I aren’t anything, I swear,” he says. “Gwaine wanted help with Percy, and I wanted you, so we helped each other out.”

“But he still…”

Arthur grimaces. “Yeah, a few times, but you know what it’s like. We’re stuck in here with no release most of the time.”

“You could have asked me,” Merlin says, feeling bold when he says it.

Arthur’s eyebrow goes up. “Yeah? You would have said yes?”

Merlin flushes at the idea of going down on Arthur, not that he hasn’t pictured it before. “After I got to know you, yeah.”

“Do you feel you know me now?”

Merlin pauses. “I know you’re a prat when you think people don’t like you.”

Arthur makes a face. “Come on. We’d just gone on a date and you said you fancied someone else.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“It was a date,” Arthur says seriously. “We sat next to each other. I tried to buy you popcorn.”

“You really need lessons on how to be more obvious,” Merlin says, but he can’t help the giddy feeling rising in him as Arthur smiles.

“Maybe you can teach me.”

“Gwaine can teach you,” Merlin says. “He’s really good at it.”

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Someone laughs drunkenly back at the house.

Merlin knows he has to say something. It’s partly his fault they’re in this mess, this confusion. He just wants to be un-confused.

“So,” Arthur says, but Merlin makes up his mind a second before, stepping forward and cutting off anything Arthur is going to say with a kiss.

It’s not quite right at first, a little off-center, but Arthur shifts and their mouths fit together. Merlin’s eyes close and he blocks out the ugly techno music coming from the house. He only thinks about how mad this all is, his heart beating faster, his lips pressed to Arthur’s - warm and soft and easy.

They break apart after a second, and he feels Arthur’s exhaled breath, the lingering scent of alcohol.

“So,” Merlin says a second later, swallowing thickly.

“You really had no idea?”

Merlin bites his lip against the warm flush in his cheeks. “I’m not that observant.”

Arthur smiles. “I gathered as much.”

“You’ll just have to be really obvious from now on.”

Arthur laughs, moving forward and pulling Merlin into another kiss, deeper this time, taking his time. He drags his tongue over Merlin’s lips, dipping inside, curling around Merlin’s tongue and sucking until Merlin pulls back to pant for breath.

“Too obvious?” Arthur asks, and Merlin’s pleased to hear him out of breath as well.

Merlin shakes his head. “That was good,” he says, and when Arthur smiles against his mouth, his heart does a stupid little flutter that he’ll never tell anyone about, least of all Gwaine.

*

FIN.


End file.
